Resistance
by Nighthawk475
Summary: 17 year old Theresa Roderick is an American living in England during Sutler's reign. After certain events occur, her and her friends have decided that they have had enough. They will create a revolution against Sutler and his party. READ AND REVIEW PLEASE
1. Prologue

A/N: Hey there! This is my first ever fanfic and it's based off my favorite movie, V for Vendetta! I haven't read the comic, so sorry if things seem a little different. The first couple of chapters take place before the movie, but don't stress! The story does eventually meet with the movie's plot. It just won't happen for a while. So…with that, here's the disclaimer.

Disclaimer: I don't own anything that belongs to V for Vendetta. I do own any and all characters that I have created, however. Now, on with the story!

_Prologue: The Stage_

_Dream Sequence_

"_Are you crazy, Elijah!?" I angrily whispered._

_Elijah had thrown a pencil at Mr. Holt while he was writing on the whiteboard. Fortunately, it came up short and hit the floor behind Mr. Holt's feet._

"_Just watch," Elijah whispered back. When Mr. Holt turned back around to face the class, he slipped on Elijah's pencil and crashed to the floor. The whole room shook with his impact, for Mr. Holt wasn't one to watch what he ate…_

_The whole class burst into hysterics, despite the fact that Mr. Holt gave beatings almost every period of the day. We watched as he tried to stand back up numerous times, but failed miserably, making us laugh even harder. When he was finally able to get back on his feet, he silenced the class with his trademark scowl. He pulled a metal rod out of his desk and began tapping the tip of it in his left hand. When he spoke, his voice was like thunder._

"_WHO THREW THAT PENCIL!?" he shouted at the top of his lungs. Nobody said anything. Nobody even moved._

"_I know SOMEONE threw that pencil to make me fall!! Who was it!?" He started to walk around the class, giving menacing glares to anyone who dared look him in the eye. He stopped at Elijah's desk. _

"_It was you, wasn't it…Mr. Wilson!?" Mr. Holt had a demonic grin plastered on his face. Elijah leaned back in his chair and gave Mr. Holt a puzzled look._

"_Why would I do such a thing?" he asked innocently._

"_Don't lie to me. You had every reason to throw that pencil!" Mr. Holt said between his teeth._

"_Okay then, Holt. You wanna point your finger at me? Back up your accusation with some cold, hard evidence!" Elijah challenged._

_Mr. Holt laughed. "You bloody git! That's simple! I have the class as my eyewitness!" He turned away from Elijah and faced everyone else._

"_Class! You all saw Mr. Wilson throw this pencil, correct?"_

_Once again, nobody moved._

"_Well!? Didn't you!?" No response._

_Mr. Holt growled, clenching his teeth in anger and frustration at Elijah outsmarting him. He faced Elijah again, holding the metal rod in front of his face._

"_You got lucky, Mr. Wilson…the class saved you…but that would only be true if life was fair."_

_I looked at Elijah in horror. Mr. Holt didn't notice my expression and continued._

"_I know it was you. Stand up," he ordered. Elijah didn't move. Mr. Holt grew even angrier. _

"_I said STAND!" Mr. Holt made to attack Elijah, but he was too fast. Elijah had been expecting a blow and ducked his head down just in time. Mr. Holt had been so focused on Elijah's head that he didn't expect to miss. Mr. Holt wobbled, then tripped over his own feet. For the second time, the room shook with his impact when he fell to the floor. Elijah didn't waste any time. He grabbed his satchel and binder and ran out of the classroom. I stuffed my binder, lecture notes, and pen into my backpack and followed suit. When I was outside the classroom, Elijah had had his back turned, leaning against a locker. When he heard me come out, he spun around, grabbed my left hand, and started sprinting down the hallway. I was caught off guard and was barely able to keep up with him for a few seconds. But by the time we reached the main office, I ran by his side, not needing his hand to guide me anymore. The secretaries freaked out when they saw us sprint through the office but we didn't stop. Nothing was able to stand in our way for very long. We charged out of the front gate of the school and flew down the street at top speed. We didn't stop running until we managed to get to Anthony's house which was thirty minutes away from school…if you were walking. Since Elijah and I were basically running a marathon, we reached Anthony's in about ten minutes. Elijah's hands were so shaky that he could barely take his key and open the front door. When he managed to get it open, he dragged me inside and nearly slammed the door. He guided me into the living room and collapsed on the couch. I sat down heavily upon the recliner, desperately needing to catch my breath from all the running. We didn't say anything for a few minutes, both of us trying slow our breathing. When we were in control, Elijah spoke._

"_Man, Mr. Holt is such a prick," he said._

"_Yeah…but he deserved what he got today." I let out an exasperated sigh. "Elijah, do you know how much trouble we're gonna get into?" He shrugged._

"_He can't prove that it was me. What do we have to worry about? Besides, we don't have school for the rest of the day now. No beatings, no boring lectures…"_

"_No homework," I added. Elijah laughed._

"_That too. We can basically do whatever we want now." I stood up from the recliner and stretched my aching muscles. Elijah also stood, but for a different reason. When I wasn't expecting it, he grabbed both of my arms and pulled me into a short but passionate kiss. When we broke apart, he held my hands in his._

"_Dinner and a movie tonight?" he asked._

"_Of course. Why would I pass up time like that? I wish I could spend all of my time with you and Anthony…" Elijah and Anthony had basically become the brothers I never had. I spent so much time at either Anthony's or Elijah's house, I would be sneaking out almost every night. Once I stayed at Elijah's house for three days straight since Mom was gone. Some of the best memories I had were with them. I just wished that home was like that…_

_Suddenly, Elijah froze. _

"_Elijah?" I asked, shaking him. "What's wrong?"_

_My vision went black and everything disappeared._

_End Dream_


	2. Life Ruled by Opression

A/N: Hello all! Here's the first official chapter of the story. I'm sorry if it's a little boring without V, but I SWEAR he will show up in later chapters. Promise. :D

Disclaimer: I don't own V for Vendetta. NONE OF IT. I do own a copy of it, though. And I didn't even pay for it! A friend gave it to me. XD

_Chapter 1: Life Ruled by Oppression_

_Whack!_

My head shot up from my desk. The teacher, Mr. Dawson, had a yard stick in his hand.

"Miss Roderick…if you wish not to be sent to the principal's office, I'd suggest you stay awake for the duration of my lecture," he said in a snooty, English accent.

"Yes, sir," I said quietly. A group of students sitting in the front right corner of the classroom began snickering. Mr. Dawson threw the yardstick across the room and hit one of the snickering students in the back of the head, knocking him out. The student fell out of his chair and hit the floor like a sack of bricks. Mr. Dawson let out an angry sigh.

"Dammit! That's the third time this week…I hope I'm not reported to the Fingermen…" he muttered to himself.

_Too late for that one, asshole, _I thought. The Fingermen were basically patrol officers hired by Sutler to…"enforce"…the law. The Fingermen were corrupt _beyond _belief. They were extremely menacing during the day but if you ran into them after the curfew…you had better be ready for an ass-whipping. Anyone unfortunate enough to be out past the curfew was beaten to within an inch of their life then taken to one of their "stations" for "interrogation." Only the bravest and the dumbest of people went out past curfew. In coalition with the Fingermen, there was also the regular police force. They weren't as corrupt as the Finger, but they were just as menacing. If you were caught outside after curfew by a _policeman_, they would just put you under arrest for the night. However, the fine they charged was horrendous. It was equivalent to near one thousand dollars of American money. (Here in England, the British pound was used, not American dollars) So it was either a beating and then some, or a hefty fine. Or you were stealthy enough to slip past both.

Mr. Dawson went to the classroom phone and dialed the infirmary number. "Yes, one of my students has been injured by a blow to the head. No, it wasn't fatal. Yes, I know it's my third time! Don't remind me of things I already know! Alright then, thank you very much." He hung up the phone and placed it back on the receiver.

"Now let us continue, if there won't be any more interruptions…" he said through his teeth. No one said a word.

"Good. Now then, let us continue."

Mr. Dawson resumed writing his lecture notes on the whiteboard. This time, I chose to pay attention, not wanting to be sent to the principal's office. While I was taking notes, a student slipped a piece of folded notebook paper onto my desk. I put my pen down and opened the note.

_Bloody hell, Mr. Dawson is quite the asshole, don't you think?_

I grinned as I read the note. I turned around and smiled to my best friend who had written the note.

His name was Rodney Wells, a fourth year at my school. I had met him in my first year when he beat up some punk who was giving me crap about my heritage, for I was an American. Rodney had received a beating for his punishment, but he didn't care. He was a firm believer in true justice, just like me. Like many, we secretly opposed Sutler's regime, but we dared not show nor voice it. Instead, we just lived with it, hoping that one day, someone would be courageous enough to stand up to Sutler and his men.

Eagerly, I wrote back on the paper:

_Mr. Dawson is always an asshole. He's so…I don't know…picky about everything. It's always about "following the regime with faith" or "being loyal to Sutler" or just any other crap like that. I'm quite sick of him, to be honest._

I foldedthe paper back up, and handed it one of my other friends who sat next to me.

"Anthony, pass this to Rodney for me," I whispered. Anthony nodded and took the folded paper. Anthony Conelly was one my other friends who hung out with Rodney and I in our rather large group. Anthony was like Rodney and I, sharing that same passion for justice. He was a second year, a grade below me. Along with his passion for justice, he was also extremely intelligent and good looking for English boy of 15. He was tall, muscular, had jet black hair, had bright blue eyes, and wore glasses. Rodney stood at about 5' 8", three inches taller than me, had chocolate brown hair and eyes, and was skinnier than a light post. Despite his lightweight frame, he was easily as strong as one of the varsity rugby players. Unlike Anthony, he didn't wear glasses. Me? I was 5' 5" with light brown hair, (most think it's blonde) hazel eyes, and glasses. Although it didn't look like it, I had the muscles of a varsity rugby player as well. The group called me "the strongest girl in the school," which was true. I could beat up any other girl and I could even go after most of the guys. Back in my days of illegal, underground fighting, I had never lost a match to anybody. The fighting had left me sculpted and as strong as an ox. However, I quit the fighting matches, despite the protests. What would happen if Creedy's men came?

So here I am, in probably the most brutal school in all of London under the most brutal regime. There wasn't much I could do, except hope for a better future.

When Rodney received my note, he looked at me and nodded his head, agreeing with me. Before he could write a response, the bell rang. Mr. Dawson stopped mid-sentence and gave a sigh.

"Alright, remember where we left off. Cheerio, class."

I eagerly packed my notes up and waited for Rodney and Anthony. All three of us walked out Mr. Dawson's Language class, into the hallway, and outside. The outside of the Nelson High School looked almost like prison. The courtyard was mostly made up of dirt, which turned into a huge mud hole whenever it rained. The school wasn't huge by any means. The front of the school was a rather magnificent office building, made of brick and consisted of Victorian architecture. Going out from the left and right, was a square, entirely made up of classrooms and student lockers in the hallways. Each classroom was a bore when you stepped inside. They had grey walls, a stone floor, and creaky, old desks that would easily break under anyone. Every single teacher's classroom was devoid of any posters, pictures, or any other personal effects. And the teacher's themselves were devoid of any personality, besides Sutler's beliefs and ideals. Fall asleep in class, and you were awoken with a yard stick to your desk. Sometimes the teachers "missed" and hit you on your back or head. The asshole teachers actually woke you up with a blow to your back, dragged you out of the classroom and into the middle of the courtyard and beat you until you were a bloody mess. Everyone would watch you get beaten mercilessly from the classroom windows. Mr. Dawson was known for doing this, so I was lucky he didn't do it to me. Probably because I had the highest grade in his class. Go figure. All the teachers favored the smart kids a little more than everyone else, but not by much. They wouldn't beat you as hard if you had good grades. The teachers weren't supposed to beat their students, but no one really paid much attention to that rule. They just weren't allowed to knock out students in class, like Mr. Dawson did today in his 2nd period Language Arts today. For _that_, the Fingermen could come and arrest them. Two teachers had already been arrested and it wasn't even October yet.

Rodney, Anthony, and I met our group in the middle of the dirt courtyard. Our group was rather large, for it consisted of every grade. Anyone was welcome to hang out with us, so long as they kept the peace. One of my other good friends, who was a first year named Jamie, gave me a high five.

"Hey guys! How was Dawson?" she asked.

"Same old crap. He knocked out that punk bitch Patrick with his yard stick. He whacked my desk since I fell asleep, and he and his friends in the front right corner started laughing. Then he just threw his yard stick and _bam_! Hit James right in the head," I explained to her.

"Bloody hell! Did Dawson call the infirmary?" she asked.

"Yeah, but they didn't show up. He's probably still in there, knocked out on the floor. You know how long the infirmary takes."

"Fucking hell…we better not fall asleep in class, eh?" She playfully punched my arm and everyone laughed.

"Hey man! Not cool!" I exclaimed.

"But she's right," a sophomore named Henry said. "We better be careful from now on."

"Right, we should listen since it came from you, Genius," Anthony joked. Everyone broke into laughter again.

"Oi! That's not funny!!" protested Henry. Henry Gallager was the easily the smartest kid in the school, thus the nickname "Genius." The teachers basically let him get away with whatever he wanted. He could call a teacher a "fat, ugly, two-faced twat" and not even get in trouble. One time, he called Mr. Dawson a "twat who slept with Fingermen for money" and Dawson didn't even give him a second glance. Needless to say, Henry was a good guy to have on our side, despite his "nerd" nature.

_RIIIIIIIIIIIINNNNNNNNGGG._

"Damn, break's over. Now it's time for that fucker, Holt," I said.

"Oi, don't worry 'bout 'im," said James Ross, a third year and another friend of mine. "You got me, Rodney, Anthony, and Jamie in your class! Holt ain't so bad with us, now ain' it?"

"No…I suppose not," I agreed.

"Hey! Let's get goin' before we're late!" Rodney said.

********************

We walked into Mr. Holt's history class, and sat down in our seats. Mr. Holt was short, bald, and his stomach hung over his pants. He easily weighed three hundred pounds and was easily the most cruel, criticizing, teacher in the school. He was known for courtyard beatings even more than Mr. Dawson and he wasn't nice on the smart ones like most. It didn't matter if you were Henry Gallager or Patrick Dunn, the dumbest kid in school and the same Patrick who was knocked out by Mr. Dawson earlier. If you pissed off Mr. Holt, you didn't get a warning. He just automatically dragged you out and beat you senseless. Also, Mr. Holt was especially hard on you if you weren't British. He loathed Americans, saying that they were "groveling, godless beggars." Obviously, Mr. Holt was a big fan of Lewis Prothero, the "Voice of London." Lewis Prothero was a man who also despised America since its fall, and openly voiced his loathing of America's inhabitants. Unfortunately for me, several of my teachers, including Holt, didn't like me for my heritage either and used it against me. Thus the reason why I began underground fighting in the middle of my first year. Anyone who made fun of my background went to the hospital with a broken nose, two black eyes, and several missing teeth. Only two people have ever made fun of my American heritage: Patrick Dunn and Elizabeth Monroe. Patrick suffered from Rodney but I took care of Elizabeth personally.

Elizabeth was a third year when I came across her. Every day, she would say the most horrible things she could make up about Americans. So, one day at lunch, when she passed by the group and called me a "stupid, slutty, bitchy whore," I stood up, tackled her to the ground, and beat the living shit out of her. I don't remember much of the fight since I was so angry but I _do _remember that her face was so swollen and bloody, that she couldn't even talk, much less see two feet in front of her. The principal suspended me for three days and I never saw Elizabeth Monroe again. After that fight, no one has ever _dared_ to say anything about me being American. If they did, they'd end up just like Elizabeth.

Today, Mr. Holt didn't seem to feel like throwing insults at me and just left me alone to take notes. Any day that Holt wasn't bashing me was a good day.

About halfway through the period, someone banged on the door of the classroom and a voice boomed: "For the High Chancellor, open this door!!" Everyone froze. Only two task forces ever said that: the Elite Police or the Special Forces that served under Sutler's right hand man, Mr. Creedy. Mr. Creedy was a coldhearted, cruel bastard. He was in charge of the interrogation camps outside the city, where those unfortunate enough to be the Chancellor's "enemies" went. They had the nickname of "black bag camps" since those arrested had black bags thrown over their heads, sent to the camps, and were never seen again. Mr. Creedy even got the nickname "The Black Bagman" since his forces arrested so many "criminals" that defied the "glorious" rule of the High Chancellor.

So I was left wondering: _Whose going to get bagged right now?_

Mr. Holt hurried to the door and wrenched it open. The Special Forces swarmed into the room, flattening Holt. There were about ten of them. They started to head toward the back of the room.

_Oh no…they're not after…_ I spun around in my seat, facing the back of the room. I was right.

The ten men gathered around James's desk, their MP5's pointed straight at him. James didn't move. I couldn't even tell if he was breathing.

The man who was directly behind him moved forward and shouted in his ear, "Do you, James Ross, traitor to the Chancellor, surrender to the Special Forces!?"

James closed his eyes and nodded. _Not like he has much of a choice_… I thought.

The man who had yelled at James dragged him out of his chair and cracked him in the jaw with the butt of his MP5. I heard a sickening crunch as it was broken. James curled up on the floor clutching his now broken jaw and buried his face in the floor. Two men grabbed his arms, pinned them behind his back, and slipped a black bag over his head. The two men dragged him out of the classroom. The rest of the team followed suit. The last man exited the room, turned around, and put his hand on the door handle.

"Let this serve as an example to the lot of yeh!" he yelled and slammed the door shut.

It was silent. The adrenaline was coursing through my veins and my breathing started to get ragged. I had just watched one of my good friends get taken away and I would probably never see him again. I turned to Anthony, who was sitting next to me. His face was as white as a bed sheet and he was gripping the sides of his desk so hard, I thought he was going break two large chunks off of it. I looked at Rodney, who sitting behind Anthony. He was sweating bullets and his face was even whiter than Anthony's. Lastly, I turned my gaze toward Jamie, who sat on my right. Her hands were balled into tight fists and she was quivering with anger and fear.

For the rest of the period, everyone just remained in their seats and didn't say a word. We had all been too traumatized to even pack up when the period was almost over. Mr. Holt had been knocked out when the Special Forces flattened him on the way in, so the lecture was basically over when James was taken away. When the bell rang, it seemed the trance had been instantly broken, for we all packed up hurriedly and rushed out of the classroom to 4th period.

********************

4th period was a daze. I didn't even pay attention what Miss Gregson's math lesson. When the bell rang, I instantly grabbed my backpack, ran out of the classroom and into the courtyard for lunch. When I got to our hangout spot, Anthony, Rodney, and Jamie were already there. When the group slowly began to arrive, they instantly knew something was wrong. By the time the whole group assembled, they knew who was missing.

I broke the silence. "By now, you all know who's missing?"

Everyone nodded.

"James was a good man. He always saw the bright side of life. This place never really bothered him much…"

Rodney cut in. "_Fucking_ hell! That's the seventh one in _two weeks_! What the blazes are we going to do about this!?"

"Rodney, we _can't _do anything about it!" I exclaimed.

"Yes we bloody well can! Alright, does everyone know the old, abandoned house on the outskirts of London?"

"You mean the Bolston's house _outside the city limits_!?" I said with shock.

"Yes, _that_ house! What other bloody house is there!?" Rodney retorted. "Everyone meet there _tonight _at eleven."

"Eleven?!" Jamie exclaimed. "That's curfew! Besides, do you know what the punishment is for going outside city limits!?" The punishment for going outside the city after curfew was a one-way ticket to a black bag camp.

"Yes, I bloody well know that!!" shouted Rodney. "Now listen. We've all met there before…except the first years…so everyone else, it's just another go. First years, go out at ten and go into the sewer system. It'll lead you right past the walls of London."

"But…if we get caught, we'll-" Henry started to protest.

"Trust me. Follow the sewers. It works every time," Rodney said gently. "If you don't want to go, say so now."

No one said anything.

"Then I'll be seeing you tonight."

Whenever something major happened, the group always met at an old, abandoned house out in the country. It was perfect for secret meetings since the Fingermen and the police never gave anything outside London a second glance. Also, it wasn't far from the sewer passage back into London, so one could sneak out and be back in the city in less than an hour. Ten minutes to the sewer system and ten minutes back to London. And then however long it took to slip past the Fingermen and find your way back to your home.

Lunch ended without much discussion and the rest of the day flew by. Soon, school was out for the day. I had no homework and walked back to my apartment in less than twenty minutes. The whole time I walked, I thought of James and I wondered what Rodney had in store for us that night.


	3. A Broken Home

A/N: Hello, hello, hello!! So here I am with Chapter 2…err…yeah. Not much to say except for the disclaimer.

Disclaimer: I don't own V for Vendetta, at all, whatsoever. Also, I don't own the song "Swing Life Away," which belongs to Rise Against. If you haven't listened to it, then go on freakin' youtube and watch it!! It's amazing. :D

Chapter 2: A Broken Home

When I reached the door to my apartment, I tried to open it. It was locked.

_Well, either Mom's not home or she locked me out. Little does she know that I always carry my key _I thought smugly. I pulled the key out of my right pocket of my jeans and put it in the lock. With a turn, I unlocked the door, took out my key, opened it and stepped inside. I closed the door behind me.

"Mom?" I called. "I'm home!" Mom came barreling out of the kitchen, eyes bloodshot.

"There you are," she growled.

"Honestly Mom. Why do you always lock me out?" I asked as nicely as I could. Mom spat on the wooden floor.

"Because you deserve it, you little runt! Always making life hard, always complaining about things! You're pathetic!"

"Well then, so are you," I said coldly.

"What did you say!?" she yelled.

"_I said so are you_." I placed emphasis on each word and I spoke through my teeth.

"Don't you dare talk to me that way, you bitch! You're lucky I haven't turned you out!!" she screamed. I gave her the dirtiest look I could muster and brushed past her, heading for my room.

"DON'T YOU IGNORE ME!!" she boomed.

"I just did, you _fucking whore!!_" I yelled back. I opened the door to my room and slammed it behind me. I collapsed onto my bed and let out an exasperated sigh. An instant later, my door wrenched open. Mom was standing in the doorway, holding belt with a buckle made of stainless steel. I looked at her and she pointed at me.

"Get over here," she growled through her teeth. I didn't move.

"_NOW!_" she screamed. I silently stood up and walked over to her. She grabbed my right arm and dragged me to the front room. She pushed me down to the floor in front of the TV and I soon felt the steel buckle boring into my skin. Mom was yelling about how I was the worst thing that ever happened to her and that how I was the most pathetic being alive. She got angrier, hitting me hard and faster. Soon enough, like all the other times before, I lost it. I jumped to my feet and rushed her. I yanked the belt out of her hands and kicked her legs out from under her. I put my knees on her arms so she couldn't retaliate, and I grinned smugly. She spit on my cheek.

"You fucking twit…I won't ever surrender to you," she said in a nasty voice.

"You don't have much of choice, bitch!"

"FINE! I give up. You beat me. Again."

I slowly stood up.

"Now fucking leave me alone or I'll break your face," I said with malice in my voice.

"Whatever you say, brat." I walked into my room and slammed my door. I collapsed onto my bed again and let forth another exasperated sigh. Home life was _always _worse than school life.

********************

At five, Mom wrenched open my door again.

"I'm going out. Make your own fucking dinner. I won't be back till next Monday, a week from today. And I don't care if you starve to death."

"Fuck you. Get out," I retorted.

Mom shrugged. "If I come back and you're dead, it'll just make everything better for me."

"_I said get out."_

Mom gave me the most plastic smile she could and walked out of the doorway to my room. I heard her slam the front door and lock it. I rolled over on my side so I was facing the wall. I felt the tears slide down from my eyes and on to my cheeks.

_Why…? Why couldn't I have just stayed in America with Dad? Why couldn't I just be with him? Why couldn't he just listen to Mom and come here? If he __were__ here, everything would alright. Mom wouldn't be this way…she wouldn't be drinking and going out to bars every night. She wouldn't be part of the Finger…everything would be whole again. But I won't ever get that wish for I know that he's dead…_

For about twenty minutes, I mourned the loss of my father and the loss of my former life. My stomach began rumbling, for I hadn't eaten anything since lunch at noon. I sighed and walked into the kitchen.

_Better have something to eat. I'm gonna need my strength and senses for tonight _I thought. While I was cooking, I started to sing to myself.

**Am I loud and clear **

**Or am I breakin' up?**

**Am I still your charm**

**Or am I just bad luck?**

**Are we getting closer or are we just getting more lost?**

**I'll show you mine**

**If you show me yours first**

**Let's compare scars**

**I'll tell you whose is worse**

**Let's unwrite these pages and replace them with our own words**

_**We live on front porches and swing life away**_

_**We get by just fine here on minimum wage**_

_**If love is a labor, I'll save till the end**_

_**I won't cross these streets until you hold my hand**_

**Been here so long**

**Think that it's time to move**

**The winter's so cold**

**Summer's over too soon**

**So let's pack our bags and **

**Settle down where palm trees grow**

**And I've got some friends**

**Some that I hardly know**

**But we've had some times**

**I wouldn't trade for the world**

**We chase these days down with talks of the places that we will go**

_**We live on front porches and swing life away**_

_**We get by just fine here on minimum wage**_

_**If love is a labor, I'll save till the end**_

_**I won't cross these streets until you hold my hand**_

**Swing life away**

**Swing life away**

**Swing life away hey**

**Swing life away**

I would have played the acoustic guitar while singing but since I was making dinner, I had to hear the guitar in my head and the other singers who sang the chorus. I realized that I related to the song, but it was before the world changed. I had always wanted to go somewhere new when I was younger. Now you could say that I got my wish. It just wasn't the way I had planned it.

I took my dinner to my room and set it on my desk. I sat down in the chair and dug out one of CD's that I had made about a week ago. This particular CD was entirely made up flamenco. I didn't care who was playing the songs. I just wanted to hear the Spanish guitar, not caring about who heard it.

When Sutler came to power, he declared many things "objectionable" and had them removed from the city and into the Department of "Objectionable Materials." They included paintings, statues, and various artifacts. He didn't stop with just art, however. He even went so far as to ban almost every musical instrument and banned certain types of music. Basically, if the music being played wasn't British, it was banned. So basically…almost all the music I listened to was on Sutler's black list. The only musical instrument that wasn't on the black list was the guitar. You could own any certain type of guitar. It didn't matter if it was electric, bass, or acoustic. A guitar was a guitar. Since Sutler had blacklisted every other instrument, not many new songs came out. Those that did…well…sucked. It was no wonder why no one listened to the radio these days…all the songs had crazy restrictions on them (The main one being protesting Sutler's rule in the song) and the only instrument was the guitar. Music sucks here in England.

Music isn't the only thing though…the food is much to be desired as well. Everything tastes so…fake. Processed, cancerous, tasteless filth, in my opinion. The Chancellor took all the good food for himself so the people had all the crap. Milk tasted sour, the butter was always tasteless, sugar was rare, that sort of thing. We didn't even use money for food. We used actual food coupons, given to us by the government. Most of the time, we couldn't even buy what we needed and since I was with Mom…that usually meant _I _was the one who starved. Mom took the majority of the food and she gave me whatever was left. And whatever she gave me was food that even the dogs refused to eat. Needless to say, I didn't pack on too much weight when we moved here. Since I didn't eat at home, I usually stopped by diners and cafes whenever I got the chance. Sometimes my friends at school would give me some of their food but for the most part, I was on my own.

I turned off the stereo that had been playing my CD. I didn't want the Ear to hear my music and send the Fingermen up here. If the Fingermen came up here, I'd have nowhere to run. Until about ten in the evening, I just stayed in my room, reading. Many works of literature had been banned by Sutler as well. It was like living the dullest of lives. It was like Sutler was cutting off all sources of escape by blacklisting everything he didn't like.

When I looked up at the clock above my desk, it was ten minutes till eleven. _Better get going. Don't wanna run into anybody outside the city._

I switched my white shoes for a pair of black ones and changed my white polo to a regular black t-shirt. I grabbed my cell phone and my key off the desk, turned the lights out, closed the windows, went out and locked the door, and I was off.

********************

When I was in the sewer tunnel, it was curfew. I was gonna have to be careful to avoid the Fingermen and the police. Not that they were any threat to _me. _I made it outside the city in less than ten minutes. I made sure that no one was around and ran into a field of wheat.

When I had reached the Bolston's house, it was 11:15. Pretty good time, if I do say so myself…

I was always one of the last ones to arrive but I could be there in fifteen minutes (As I just proved) since I lived so close to the sewage system. There was no rush for me, however, so I always took my time. When I went inside the big, abandoned house, it was completely dark. However, I had been out the fields and in the tunnels for so long, that my vision had already adjusted. I walked into the middle of the room. Suddenly, a huge arm draped over my shoulders and my back was against a hard, sculpted chest. I felt a point of a knife at my throat.

"Just who do you think you are, waltzin' in 'ere!?" a voice said. I responded by elbowing my captor in the stomach. The knife clattered to the floor. I round-house kicked my captor in the chest, effectively taking him out. Then there were flashlights aimed at me and I covered my eyes, not used to the light yet.

"Bloody hell, Anthony! It's only Theresa." It was Rodney. Anthony stood up and wobbled, leaning against the wall for support.

"For fuck's sake…you don't have to kick so bloody hard," he said, holding his chest.

"You never identified yourself." Everyone laughed. Anthony smiled.

"If there's one thing you know how to do…it's beatin' the blimmin' daylights out of people," Anthony chuckled. Everyone laughed again. It was my turn to smile.

"Alright then. Now get everyone in here. We've got quite a lot speakin' to do tonight," Rodney ordered. People then rushed around, lighting candles, bringing in lawn chairs, and calling for people to come inside. Once everyone was assembled, Rodney stood in the middle of the room, about to unfold his agenda for the group.

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OMG. What's Rodney got planned?! Find out next chapter…and for the sake of my sanity, would you very kindly…

REVIEW!!!! PLEASE!!!!! IT'S THAT LITTLE BOX AT THE BOTTOM AND IT SAYS IN GREEN LETTERS "REVIEW THIS CHAPTER/STORY"!!!! SO CLICK ON IT AND LEAVE ONE!!! Please? :D


	4. For Freedom!

**A/N: Hello again! Nighthawk here with the third chapter! And a big thank you to those who did review! (And yes, **_**firefly123, **_**V will eventually come into the story. It just won't happen for a few more chapters, since I have to develop the plot a little more. XD) So with that, on to the disclaimer!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own V for Vendetta. That belongs to its respective owner(s). And now, let the third chapter begin! **

***Fireworks go off* **

**Yay! Fireworks!! XD**

_Chapter 3: For Freedom!_

Everyone was silent, eager for Rodney to start. He cleared his throat and began.

"You all know why we're here. You all know why we're out here, breaking curfew and outside the city limits."

"Because you asked us to," Henry said. Everyone laughed. Rodney's lips hinted at a smile.

"Besides that. _Why _did I ask you chaps to risk your hides tonight?"

I answered that question. "Because you want us to remember James and knowing you…I'd say you already have a plan to retaliate, correct?"

No one spoke. All eyes were on Rodney, awaiting an answer.

"Yes. I want to retaliate."

The room went into an uproar. There were cries of "Madness!" and "Are you daft!?" Eventually, everyone calmed down and it was silent again.

"I can promise every single one of you that I have _not_ gone mad." He turned to Henry. "Henry. How many of our friends have been taken in past two weeks?"

"Let's see…seven if you count James."

"My point exactly! The first day of school it was Lily and Anne. The day after it was George. Then last week was Sarah, Claire, and Elijah. James was today."

I flinched when he had said Elijah. Anthony saw this.

"They keep taking our friends! I say it's time we do somethin' 'bout tit!"

I stood up from the chair I had been sitting in. "Rodney, if we try and stop them, it'll be like trying to stop God! We can't do anything about it!!"

"Oh yes, we bloody well can!" Rodney exclaimed.

"Then what do you suggest!?"

"Alright, you know how the Fingermen always patrol the streets at night, looking for some unlucky chap to beat on?"

"Yeah…" I could already tell where he was going with this.

"Well, I say we take the fight to them! We go around town beating up any Fingerman we find!" Once again, everyone was silent.

"And this is gonna help our captured friends _how_?" I asked skeptically.

"Well, Special Forces is way too dangerous to take on now. My plan is this: we start by harassing Fingermen, then soon enough, we get the police in on it. Then we start harassing them…do you see the pattern here?"

"And what are going to hope to accomplish by doing this?"

"If we can show that the Fingermen and the police can't control us, then other people will start to see it too. We won't be the only ones fighting!"

Finally, I understood Rodney's plan. "So you want to start a rebellion?"

"Exactly. If we can prove that Sutler's absolute rule can be broken, then we can have all the people on this side of the Thames fighting alongside us!"

"Hold it. If we go through with this, do you know exactly who will be coming after us first?" I asked.

"Well, we'll find out won't we?"

"We'll be going against the Head of the Juvenile Affairs Department!"

"Who cares!? We can outsmart-"

"It's not Dixon anymore. It's Investigator Bryson," I stated.

Once again, the room was thrown into an uproar. It took Anthony and me nearly five whole minutes to calm everyone down. When it was quiet again, Rodney spoke.

"Bryson!? Since when did that bloody git get promoted!?"

"He was promoted sometime in the summer. I don't know how he managed to work his way up that far, for we all know how _he _works…" Everyone snickered.

Investigator Connor Bryson was one of the most brutal police officers in the district. Many times, he received demotions and suspensions for his cruelty and exceedingly violent nature. As to how he managed to work his way through the ranks, I had no idea…nor did I want to find out. It probably involved bribery and blackmail…not that he's never done that before. His entire background was based on that sort of thing, since he was an ex-con. Swindling thousands of pounds from big companies and using blackmail whenever someone got too close to the truth. However, he made a few fatal slip-ups and had to become a cop for the sake of keeping out of one of Creedy's camps. Bryson made a lot of enemies in his con days and a lot of people wanted to see him dead. If not dead, then thrown into a black bag camp, which was fine by me. Rodney continued with his plan.

"So here's what we do. We plan out our attacks one night, then carry them out the next. That way, we have time to rest and such. Also, if we attack every night, we won't be able to function for school."

"Not to mention, we'll attract attention a lot faster if we're beating up Fingermen every night," I cut in.

"That too. If we go too fast with this, we'll be seeing the inside of a black bag in no time at all…and I don't think _anyone_ wants that."

Everyone shook their heads.

"Alright. To minimize the chance of getting arrested, you'll be assigned partners. It's your job to watch each other's backs and make sure you don't get into a fight you can't win. Anthony, Theresa, and I will be a group of three."

"Why the three of you together? You guys can probably take out half the Fingermen in the district by yourselves!" said Henry.

"My point exactly. Even if the three of us could do that…if they got us pinned in a corner somewhere, they'd overwhelm us with numbers." Rodney explained. Henry stared at the floor and mumbled his apology.

"But if we had backup in said fight…then the odds would be turned, wouldn't they?" Henry nodded.

"You see? Makes perfect blimmin' sense to me. So! Tonight, we assign partners and plan our first attacks. Make sense?"

Everyone nodded.

"Alright then. Anthony! Theresa!" Rodney called. Both of us immediately stood up.

"For this, both of you will be made my lieutenants. Is that alright with the both of yeh?"

We nodded.

"Bloody brilliant! Let's get started then, eh chaps?"

And it began. We managed to get through assigning and plans without too much of a problem. It was 12:30 when we were finished. Everyone was going over plans and talking about what to do if outnumbered. Rodney motioned for Anthony and me to join him at a folding card table in the corner of the room. We both sat down and Rodney spoke.

"Right then. Nothin' special for us. We just go 'round beating up any Fingerman we see."

"Isn't that what everyone's plan is, Rodney?" Anthony asked. Rodney realized this and then blushed crimson.

"I guess so…it's not really that complicated. Just as long as we keep to the alleyways and stay in our district, we'll be fine."

"So it's settled then?" I asked.

"Guess so."

"Right then. Then I guess there's no reason why we should still be here?"

"Well, in your case, yes. You could leave if you wanted to. Everyone else still has to learn how to fight though," Rodney explained.

"Well, you could do that, right?"

"Course! Not that hard, really. Although Henry might be a problem…he's a scrawny one at that."

"You'll just have to beef him up a little. Nothing you can't handle, eh?" I joked. We all laughed.

"So," Anthony said. "Where and when are we meetin'?"

"We're meetin' outside Theresa's place at curfew. She's the only one out the three of us that has an alley to hide in," Rodney said.

"Right then," I said. "Well, I'll be seeing you tomorrow then?"

Rodney nodded and waved goodbye. "Cheerio."

"Later."

"Wait," said Anthony. "Theresa, might I have words with yeh before yeh leave?"

"Sure."

I nodded to Rodney. Anthony and I walked outside and stood on the front porch.

"Listen. I'm still sorry about Elijah. I saw you flinch when Rodney mentioned him," Anthony said.

"Anthony…don't worry about me. It's not as painful as it once was when they first took him away. Honestly, I was more worried about how you felt more than anything," I said.

"Yeah…I cared 'bout him too. He was my cousin, although we were like brothers. I thought I'd never get over the fact that he was gone."

"I thought so too for a while. But then I realized that it was no use crying about it. He's gone and there's nothing I can do about it."

"I realized that too…instead, I thought 'bout his personality. How he would do anything for his friends…how he would always give up part of his lunch to one of us who didn't 'ave one…how he would he let us cheat off his exams…how he would let us copy his 'omework…just how generous he was altogether."

"So did I, Anthony…so did I." Neither of us said anything for a minute. Then I started down the porch steps.

"Be careful, would yeh? Don't want yeh to get fingered," Anthony said.

I smiled at the joke. "I will. Just make sure Rodney doesn't fall over from exhaustion."

Anthony nodded and walked back into the house, leaving me alone outside. It was 12:40. _Hopefully, there aren't too many Fingermen out…the last thing I want is a brawl right now _I thought. My senses started to kick in and I made my way back through the fields and to the sewer tunnels in record time. When I was back in London, I made sure to walk through the alleyways. I came to my apartment building without any hitches. I flew up the flight stairs and came to my door. With a sigh of relief, I unlocked the door and stepped inside. It was rather dark but once again, my vision had already adjusted and I could see perfectly without any light. I made my way through the living room, up the three steps into the kitchen, and into the small hallway. To my left, was Mom's room. Straight ahead, was the bathroom. (Or "loo" as it was called here in England) To my right, was my room. I went inside, not bothering to close the door since Mom wouldn't be here till next week. I flipped on my lamp on my bookshelf, blinking several times to get used the light. I changed into pajamas and brushed my teeth. Before I climbed into my bed, I kneeled down on the floor.

_Let's see, which one was it…? Oh! Here it is!_

I removed a floorboard and under it, was a collection of items that I had stored in there. Most of it was CDs and things for my guitar like strings and picks. But behind it all, were two photo albums, black and brown. The brown one was old and ready to fall apart, but I didn't care. It was full of family pictures before the civil war and the plague. But it wasn't that one I wanted. I pulled the black photo album and sat on my bed. I eagerly started flipping through the pages.

The black photo album was all pictures of my time in England. There were pictures of Rodney and Anthony wrestling, a food fight in action, and many other funny moments our group had shared. But I skipped all those, heading straight for the halfway mark. When I got there, the picture I saw almost made me cry.

There was a teenage boy and girl, standing in the middle of the dirt courtyard at school. The boy had one arm around the girl's shoulder and the girl had her arm around his waist. Both of them were smiling broadly. The boy stood at about six feet, wearing a white shirt, jeans, and white All-Stars. He had muscles, but not quite like Anthony's. He didn't wear glasses. The two most striking features about him were his hair and his eyes. His eyes were emerald green and unlike most, had a cross between red and brown hair. In this picture, his hair looked bright red. But in the photo below, his hair looked brown. Thus, the combination of color.

_Ah, Elijah…how I miss you…_

I began to flip through the second half of the photo album. Almost all of it was of me and Elijah. There were pictures of us dancing to Anthony's guitar tunes, laughing at jokes made by the group, copying each other's homework, drenching each other with water, and all sorts of memories I had with him. There was one picture where he had taken a dare and paraded around Rodney's house in a pink butterfly suit. Anthony and I were in hysterics on the floor, almost passing out from laughing so hard. There were so many pictures that I lost all track of time. When I was done, it was almost two in the morning.

_Dammit. I'm only getting four hours of sleep tonight…but looking through that photo album was worth it, in my opinion._

Rodney had made me that photo album at the end of last year. He had taken the pictures throughout the entire time Elijah and I were together. Every day, Rodney would bring his camera and say "Right then! What are you and Elijah going to pull today?" Elijah and I would smirk at each other, trying not to laugh, but would fail anyway. Elijah had been an American by blood and had a rather rebellious nature. He would always mock the teachers when they weren't looking, steal lesson plans, and just generally cause trouble. He was a third year like I was but the Special Forces came and took him away, since his parents were political activists. I was so relieved that I didn't have to see him taken away because I would've tried to stop them. Also, I would have been scarred forever if I had seen them throw a black bag over his head.

I let out a huge yawn. _Time to go to sleep._

I stood up and placed the photo album back into my secret hiding place. I placed the wooden floorboard back in its place and I climbed under the covers of my bed. Exhausted from the day's events, I fell into a deep sleep, remembering the time when Elijah planted a firecracker in Patrick Dunn's lunch. Patrick was beaten and then suspended for a week. Elijah wasn't punished since Patrick couldn't prove that it was him who planted the firecracker.

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**Phew. Next chapter will come soon…I just need to make some adjustments to it. :)**

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	5. Memoirs of a Past Life

**A/N: ACK!!!! I'M SORRY!!! I know it's been a few weeks since I've posted, but I've been buried under karate, friends, laziness, and the dreaded place called high school. Also, I went and got myself addicted to the DS and Xbox Live…but I didn't forget about this story! Oh, AND BIOSHOCK 2 IS GONNA COME OUT!! I forget when, but IT'S GONNA BE FREAKIN AWESOME!! And uber creepy…O.o**

**Anyway! A shout out to those who read/reviewed…although more people are reading and not REVIEWING…*Sigh***

**Disclaimer: I do NOT own V for Vendetta! Nothing whatsoever! Not even the scene from the movie that I put my own crappy spin on! (You'll know it when you see it xD )**

Chapter 4: Memoirs of a Past Life

My eyes snapped open. My alarm clock was blaring next to my bed. I slammed the top button, turning it off instantly. I sat upright and rubbed my eyes, yawning as I did so. I then stretched my arms and looked at the clock. It was six.

I had had another dream about Elijah. It wasn't an event that I'd been dreaming about, it was Elijah himself, more or less. I couldn't believe that I had remembered every single, little feature about him…it was like I saw him only yesterday. I sighed then climbed out of bed to get ready for school.

_Elijah…why couldn't we be together?_

I stood in front of my closet, seeing Elijah in my mind. His red hair gleaming in the sun. His emerald eyes looking off into the distance, smiling a huge grin…

I turned away from my closet and stared out my open window, watching the sunrise. Elijah always got up early to enjoy it. Every day, he would wake up at five in the morning and sit on his front porch with a cup of coffee and just watch the sunrise. He had always said it the most beautiful thing he had ever had besides me…and he would probably never see it again.

_Elijah…_

I wiped away a tear that escaped my right eye. I knew that I couldn't cry over him…I had to be strong. For both of us.

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_Whack!_

My head shot up from my desk…again.

"For Christ's sake, Miss Roderick! Pay attention!! You wouldn't want a beatin' now, would yeh!?" Mr. Dawson exclaimed.

"No, sir" I quickly said. Patrick Dunn started snickering. Mr. Dawson chucked a stapler at him. It hit him right between the eyes, knocking him out cold. Patrick slumped over his desk, not due to wake up for at least a few hours.

"For fuck's sake, not again!!" Mr. Dawson shouted at the top of his lungs. He stalked over to the classroom phone, muttering profanities. He picked the phone up off the receiver but slammed it back down again.

"Fuck it," he said. He turned around towards the class.

"Dunn can stay slumped over 'till he wakes up. 'Till that time, _no one_ mentions that I didn't call the infirmary or that I knocked out Dunn again. Are we _clear!?_" he said angrily.

The class quickly nodded, not wanting to end up like Patrick. Mr. Dawson cleared his throat and smiled.

"That's what I thought."

********************

"And then he chucked the bloody stapler at 'im! I could've sworn on me life that it went at least thirty miles an hour! Anyway…"

It was snack and the group was at the usual spot. Rodney was explaining what had happened in Dawson's class earlier. We were all sitting on the ground in a lopsided circle, listening to his tale. We all laughed when he demonstrated Patrick slumping over a pretend desk.

_Just like the old days…_ I thought sadly. Elijah would always have a story to tell at snack and lunch. Whenever he told stories, we all paid attention to him like he was some sort of prophet who had all the answers to life's questions. He was never interrupted and we always laughed at one point or another when Elijah had the floor. Every day was a new tale when Elijah was here. When he was taken away, it was like when Franklin Roosevelt died. It was like God himself had faded into the void…

But with the brutal lifestyle we faced every day, there was no room for tears. To the public, being emotional was displaying weakness. We always had to remain strong for the Chancellor, not ourselves. We all wanted change. Rebellion shown in us so bright, it was like staring into the sun. We wanted to change our country and no one, not even Sutler and his party of madmen, were going to stop us.

********************

_RIIIIIIIIIIIIIIING._

I packed up my backpack and walked out of my last period. I walked three doors down and waited for Anthony and Rodney to come out of their science class. When they did, they each greeted me with a high five.

"Hey guys. How was Clark?"

"Ah, same old crap. Boring as hell but at least he's not ol' hard ass Holt," Rodney joked.

"Yeah, thank God for that. If he was like Holt, we'd be going to the infirmary every day," Anthony added.

"Well then, nice to know you guys didn't get a beating. So! My house at eleven, right?"

"Right. We'll meet yeh in the alleyway next to your building," Rodney confirmed.

"Alright then. I'll be seeing you guys later?"

"Right," they both agreed.

"Later fellas." I turned around and started to walk down the hallway towards the main office.

"Cheerio Theresa! And try not to piss off your mum!" Anthony yelled after me.

I turned back around and said, "Mom's not gonna be back 'till next week!"

"Well, take care then!" Anthony yelled.

"Cheerio!" Rodney exclaimed. I waved, turned my back, and headed down the hallway to the main office. When I got there, secretaries and clerks were bustling around filing paperwork, taking calls, and just being like any other high school staff. They didn't seem to pay me any mind, so I just walked straight through the office and outside to the front steps. I descended the staircase, walked through the wide open black gate, turned left, and began to walk home. Every day, I made this journey since Mom was either too drunk or too pissed off to come pick me up. Or, as she put it, she was "out." I never had any clue as to where she would go or where she would stay every night. Hell, I didn't even know what she _did _when she was gone. I did know that it involved bars and…well, let's just say she came home one night with a man that I had never seen before. I had been in my room, listening to my CD player, when I thought I heard something. I had freaked out and quickly shoved my CD player into a desk drawer. I walked out of my bedroom and they were walking towards me. I thought I was finished for sure, but they didn't pay attention to me. They had walked right past me like I wasn't even there and into Mom's room. I remember that I was so angry, I waited until after the man left at one in the morning to confront Mom. It was one of the ugliest confrontations I ever had with her. It was so bad, that I didn't get to school until third period since I had to set up the whole apartment back to the way it was. The living room didn't really get touched, but the kitchen was the worst. It had taken me a solid three hours to clean up the spilt food, silverware, and blood. From that clash, I had about a five inch scar on my left arm, starting at my wrist. None of the other conflicts with Mom were as bad as that one. I was just glad that I was still alive after that.

When I had reached my front door, I pulled my key out of my jeans pocket and opened it. I shut the door, threw my backpack on the couch, and went straight to the refrigerator. I grabbed a cold water, went back to the couch, and began my homework. Homework was never hard. Besides, I had always been a good student. I never failed any of my classes. If I did, my record and thus, my future, would've been doomed.

So for the next few hours after homework, I just sat and watched TV. The shows weren't eye-catching, since everything was censored by Sutler. Nothing good was ever on these days…

I looked at my watch. It was five to eleven.

_Better close up and get ready…I'll be getting into at least one brawl tonight._

********************

"There." Anthony pointed to four men sharing drinks. I could smell the stench of alcohol and cigarettes from our hiding place. The four men were standing in the middle of a three way fork in an alleyway next to Jack's Bar, a good hour from my place.

"Theresa. You know the plan?" Anthony asked. I nodded.

"Alright. If they _are _Fingermen, don't let them even touch you, alright?"

"Right," I said.

_Well, here goes nothing…_

I stepped out of the shadows and into the three way fork. The four men turned in my direction and smiled demonically.

"Well, well…what have we here?" one of them asked. He was shorter than the rest, about my height. He was a heavier set man, but not as big as Mr. Holt.

"Seems like we got one out past curfew, Arthur." That man who spoke was the tallest of the four, rivaling Anthony's height.

"Where are yeh goin'? What excuse yeh have for being out past curfew?" The man who spoke next was about three inches shorter than me and was the fattest of the four.

"Look. I'm just going to a friend's house, alright?"

The man who was as tall as I was spoke. "Huh…going to a friend's for the night, eh? What do you think 'bout that, John?"

"Load of bullocks," the man named John said. He stepped forward and stood in front of me. The stench of alcohol was overwhelming. He was thin and had a gaunt, hollowed face. His skin was extremely pale, even though it was night. He was about as tall as Rodney. The man named Arthur spoke again.

"See, our friend John isn't feeling so well."

"Yeah, I've been struck with a cold." He grabbed one of my hands. "You know what I mean…?"

I yanked my hand back and gave him a dirty look. "I wouldn't do that if I were you, asshole." John gave a look of mock surprise.

"Well, would yeh look at that! Looks like our girl is a bit of a comedian!" I pulled out a switchblade and pointed it at John.

"When I suggest you don't do something, I mean it," I growled. John took a few steps back.

"Well, would yeh look at this? An obvious threat!" The tallest one nodded.

"That it is…well, if that's her way of enforcing justice on us, then we enforce our own." He pulled a badge out of the front pocket of his long overcoat and flashed it at me. It was the Fingermen's badge, a vertical black rectangle with a long red line splitting it down the middle. Splitting that line near the top, were two horizontal red lines, parallel to each other. I pretended to shift with unease.

"You're Fingermen…" I mockingly gasped. The tallest one nodded again.

"That we are. And for pulling a knife on John, you'll be _punished_ accordingly." He smiled lustily. "You first, John."

"Right. Now I _know _you'll make this cold go away…" He made to grab my arms but I was already expecting this. I quickly punched his stomach, grabbed his shoulders, and pushed him backwards. I turned my head and whistled. Out of the shadows came Anthony and Rodney, ready to fight. The four men hesitated and I smiled evilly.

"What's the matter, chaps? Too scared to enforce your _justice?_ Or are you afraid of the little comedian's act?"

No answer. I turned my head again and nodded. "Let's teach these assholes how to put on _real _show!"All three of us began to walk briskly toward the four Fingermen. John stood up, holding his stomach.

"Don't let these bloody kids scare you! After 'em!" The three other Fingermen started to charge us. Arthur came for me with his baton. He made an overhead blow, but I sidestepped him. I raised my switchblade as he turned around. Arthur smiled evily.

"Let's see how good you are with that, funny girl!" His next blow was overhead again. I blocked it easily and he tried to swing and hit my ribs. I blocked him again and kicked him in the gut, sending him sprawling backwards. He threw away his baton and pulled out his own switchblade. He charged me again, trying to stab me in the stomach. I went back a step, and when he missed me by mere centimeters, I went under his knife with my own. I moved my hand up and in a half-circle, sending his knife flying and effectively disarming him. I pointed my knife at him threateningly. He paid it no mind, for he then he threw a punch at my face. I moved my head out of the way of his fist, took his arm and pinned it behind his back. I pushed his wrist away from me until I heard a sickening _crack_. Arthur howled in pain at his now broken wrist. I kicked his right leg out from under him so he stood on one knee. I let him go and he instantly held his broken wrist, not paying any more attention to me. I took advantage of his mistake, and let loose a powerful roundhouse kick. My foot connected with the back of his head, knocking him out instantly. I looked at Anthony and Rodney, who had both won their own duels. We all nodded to each other. I took one last look at the three unconscious Fingermen.

_Wait a minute…something isn't right here._

"Wait a minute, you guys," I said.

"What is it?" Anthony asked.

"I could've sworn there were four…" I looked at the three Fingermen again. The gears clicked into place in my mind. "Where's the one named John?"

"Over here!" Rodney called. He was a little ways away from us. Anthony and I ran over to him. He was kneeling over John, who had clearly lost his battle.

"Bloody hell! He's not dead is he!?" Anthony exclaimed.

"No," I said. "Look. His nose is broken." I pointed to his nose, which was crooked and bashed inward. His entire face and a good portion of his overcoat was covered in blood.

"Rodney, you didn't do this did you?" I asked. He shook his head.

"No, I didn't. Anthony didn't either 'cause he was fightin' beside me the whole time."

"Hmm…who could've done this when we weren't looking? Whoever it was, they were good. Really good," I said.

"How can you tell?" asked Anthony.

"Simple," I said. "One, he's isolated from the fight and two, his injuries could've only been inflicted by a weapon of sorts."

"Weapon?" Rodney asked.

"Look at his nose. See how crooked it is? No human fist could've done that," I explained.

"Wow Theresa. I never would've guessed…who do you think it was?" Anthony asked.

"I don't know but whoever it was, we owe them. They saved us from a possible arrest." Rodney and Anthony nodded.

"Let's go. I don't wanna be around when they wake up." We left the three way fork and stood outside Jack's Bar.

"Listen. I'm gonna head home. If you guys find any more Fingermen, be careful if you fight them," I said.

"Alright. You be careful going home. Don't want the comedian to give a bad joke and get sacked," Anthony joked. I smiled and rolled my eyes.

"Be careful. See you guys later."

"Cheerio, chap," Rodney said. I nodded and ducked back into the alleyway. I would have to follow them back to my house, for the streets were too dangerous.

********************

For an hour, I followed the cobblestone alleyways back to my apartment building. I shivered when I reached my front door.

_It's way too cold at night in England…I should've worn a jacket._

I unlocked the front door and went inside. I went straight to my room and collapsed on my bed, too tired and worn out to change, for it was almost two in the morning.


	6. A Dangerous Game

**A/N: Gomen. I know it's been a while, but I've been too damn lazy to update. My time has gone to Deathnote, Final Fantasy X, and reading other fanfiction. I promise I'll try to update faster for you people who want more. :D**

**I do not own V for Vendetta.**

Chapter 5: A Dangerous Game

_One month later…_

"C'mon, guys! Run!!" I shouted over my shoulder.

Rodney, Anthony, and I were running at a full sprint. Our destination was a chain-link fence and the junkyard that was behind it. Behind us were about twelve Fingermen led by Investigator Bryson. I heard Rodney lose his footing behind me so I stopped and spun around. He was on the ground and two Fingermen were about to pounce on him. I looked to the side of the narrow alleyway, and there was a trash can. I ran over to it, knocked the lid off, and dug around inside. I felt glass underneath my hand. I took it out to see that I had found a whole glass beer bottle. Taking aim, I tossed it with all my strength. The Fingerman that was about to arrest Rodney was hit square in the forehead. Glass shattered everywhere and he fell backwards onto the other Fingerman behind him. They both fell to the ground with a _thud._ I started to run over to Rodney. The Fingerman who had been knocked down by the unconscious one stood up and walked over to Rodney. I let forth a battle cry and lowered my shoulder into him, tackling him to the ground. I pinned his arms down with my knees and brought my elbow down on his nose. There was a _crunch_ and a spray of blood. The man screamed in pain. I stood up, walked over to Rodney, and helped him off the cobblestone. Together, we ran to the chain link fence before Bryson and the rest of his men caught up. Anthony was already there waiting for us. He pointed to the top of the fence.

"It's razor wire! There's no way we're getting over this!" he exclaimed.

"Just climb it!" I said desperately. "We don't have a choice!" Anthony nodded. I grabbed onto the chain links and reached the top in seconds. I could hear Anthony and Rodney scrambling up next to me. I took a deep breath and put my right hand on top of the fence. The razors were already cutting into my skin. I ignored the pain and placed my other hand on the top of the fence. The razors cut into my skin again, making me shriek with pain. I used the strength in my arms and swung my left leg to the top. I pulled myself upward and vaulted over. While I was going over, my left leg brushed up against the wire. A razor tore its way down my jeans and cut into my skin. When I landed on both feet, immense pain seared up leg my leg. I immediately went on one knee to see the damage that had been done. There was one long tear, starting from my knee and ending at my ankle. The wound bled profusely and I knew that I couldn't run as fast. Rodney and Anthony landed next to me unscathed. They both kneeled to see what had happened.

"Bloody hell, Theresa. That's one hell of a wound," Anthony said. I made to stand but fell to my knees again. The pain was unbearable. Anthony immediately took my right arm, put it around his shoulders, and wrapped his left arm around my waist to support me. He stood slowly. The pain wasn't as great with Anthony's help. I took a deep breath.

"Guys, we have to get out of here or they'll surround this place. We have to find the entrance or some other way to get in and out," I said. I took another deep breath and my head started to spin.

"I don't think Theresa's gonna be able to climb any more fences tonight," Rodney said.

"There's a side entrance across this junkyard. We came over on the right side of here, so we'll have to just head straight across. In the alleyway directly across from that entrance is one of the many pipes into the sewer system. If we can get there, we'll lose Bryson and his men," Anthony explained. I could hear Bryson and his men yelling and their footsteps on the stone.

"Christ, you guys! Let's go before they surround us!" I exclaimed. Rodney ran at a slower speed and Anthony was going as fast as he could with me. Thankfully, the junkyard wasn't that large and the side entrance Anthony talked about was wide open. The alleyway was right there beyond the gate.

"C'mon chaps! It's right there!" Rodney yelled. He took off at a full sprint and disappeared into the shadows of the cobblestone alley. Anthony then released me and then proceeded to pick me up. He put his arm behind my knees and lifted me upward, me groaning with the pain in my leg as he did so. As soon as he had me secure, he charged out of the side entrance and into the alleyway. When he turned the corner, I saw Rodney already waiting at the sewer tunnel entrance.

"Hurry up, chaps! They'll be all over us in a minute!"

Anthony ran over to Rodney and ducked into the sewer tunnel pipe. Rodney followed suit and put the steel grating back into place, ensuring that Bryson wouldn't be able to follow us. They started to run down the tunnel and into the sewer network, Anthony still carrying me.

********************

Not even a minute after we made our escape, Investigator Bryson was in the alleyway across from the side entrance. He looked around then threw his flashlight down on the ground in utter frustration.

"Dammit!!" he cursed. The other Fingermen had soon caught up with him.

"What happened?" one of them asked.

"Those fucking kids got away! _Again!"_ Bryson said angrily. "Another goddam failure! And I think one of 'em was injured. I saw denim on the razor wire." Bryson punched the wall in anger. "Bloody gits!! I sick of 'em beating up my men and gettin' away with it!!"

"Sir, what do we do now?" another Fingerman asked. Bryson was silent for a moment. When he spoke, it was through his teeth.

"What I should've done a long time ago. Gettin' those fucking kids arrested!!" Bryson crushed his flashlight underneath his boot.

********************

Rodney roundhouse kicked the steel grating out of the pipe. Anthony, still carrying me, stepped into my apartment building's alleyway. Rodney followed suit and put the grating back into place. When we reached my front door, I shakily pulled my key out of my pocket and unlocked it. My hands were so shaky from adrenaline and loss of blood that I dropped my key on the floor. Rodney pushed open the door and Anthony grabbed my key. I hobbled over to the couch and collapsed on it. Rodney turned on the living room light.

"Theresa, sit upright and roll up the torn pant leg. I'm gonna see if I can find a medical kit," he told me. I nodded, too worn out to say anything. Anthony helped me upright and gently rolled up my left pant leg. Not two minutes later, Rodney came back with an emergency medical kit that I had never seen before. Rodney looked at my wound.

"Well Theresa, yeh got lucky. I don't think yeh need stitches. I'll just get all the blood off and clean out the wound."

"Well, at least it's not bleedin' like it was," Anthony said. I let out a sigh of relief. Stitches was the last thing I needed since they would impair my movement and if Mom saw them…I'd be dead on the spot. The only thing I had to worry about was just concealing the wound until it healed. I took a quick look at my hands. They weren't nearly as bad as my leg, for all they had were a few cuts.

_Funny. I thought it was way worse than this. It sure as hell felt and looked that way…well, the smallest injuries do hurt the most…_

Rodney wiped off most of the blood with a piece of cloth and proceeded to clean the gash with hydrogen peroxide. It stung, but I was able to ignore most of the pain. When he was finished, he wrapped my left leg in a bandage.

"There yeh go. Try not to walk on it too much and get plenty o' rest. Also, don't let your mum see it and check on it as often as possible. Now, lemme see your hands," Rodney said. I held them out to him. Rodney raised his eyebrows.

"Huh. Yeh didn't bleed as much as I thought you had…"

"Yeah, I thought that was weird too…oh well. The lighting wasn't really that great in the junkyard so I couldn't see my hands all that well. Also, the mass amounts of adrenaline made my awareness to pain worse," I said.

"Well, it looks like your hands will be fine. Don't worry 'bout 'em too much," Rodney said. There was a moment of silence between the three of us. I was sitting on the couch, Rodney was kneeling in front of me, and Anthony was sitting next to me. Suddenly, I had a revelation.

"Guys…you know what this means right?" I asked.

"What _what _means?" Anthony asked.

"Our escape. Things are gonna start to get ugly."

"What are yeh talking about, Theresa?" Rodney asked.

"Think about the past month. We've been going around beating up Fingermen and Bryson's been chasing us all over the district since we started. Soon enough, he's gonna come under fire from the police since he hasn't caught us yet."

"Oh no…" said Anthony. He had figured out what I was getting at.

"Exactly. He's gonna get help. And _that's _when the game really begins," I said.

"Who's he gonna go to for help? With a record as bad as Bryson's, no one's gonna want to step in and help 'im arrest _kids_," Rodney countered.

"There's one guy who would even consider," Anthony answered. "Detective Erich Finch." Rodney stood up.

"_Finch?_ He'd get _his _help to try and bag us?" Rodney said incredulously.

"If he gets Finch on his side, we're gonna have a way harder time getting our ideas of rebellion out. Finch is one the police department's best detectives and if we make a mistake with him…," I drifted.

"One mistake with Finch is gonna earn us a one-way ticket to the slammer," Anthony finished. He let out a huge sigh. "This is bad, chaps. Really bad."

"We're just gonna have to be extra careful. Also, there's still a chance that Finch will refuse," I said. Anthony and Rodney gave me looks that said _Yeah right._

"Oh, alright! Finch probably won't refuse Bryson's call for help…he _does _follow a code of helping others when they need it, no matter who they are," I admitted.

"Even if it _is _Bryson," Rodney joked. The three of us laughed. There was another moment of silence, then things got serious again.

"Alright guys. I probably won't show up tomorrow night or the night after, so I want you guys to tell everyone about the possibility of Finch coming into the equation. Can you two do that?" I asked. They both nodded.

"Good. Now then, you guys wanna stay the night?"

"What about your mum, Theresa? She'll tan our hides if she finds us here!" Anthony exclaimed.

"Mom's out again. She won't be around 'till the end of next week," I said. Anthony looked at Rodney, expecting an answer. Rodney nodded.

"It won't hurt if we just stay for tonight. Besides, our parents don't care where we go or when. Just as long as we don't get arrested." Rodney yawned. "Well, I'm goin' to turn in. What 'bout you chaps?"

Anthony gaped at Rodney like he just slapped him in the face. "Rodney! Yeh forgot to tell Theresa about…_it_."

Rodney's eyes went wide. "Err…right." I had no clue as to what they meant by "it." As far as I was concerned, they could've been talking about _anything_.

Rodney pulled a plastic bag out of the jacket he was wearing and handed it to me. Inside of it was a flower. It looked like a red rose but it wasn't the same. There were no thorns and the petals were different than the ordinary rose. I gave Rodney a puzzled look.

"When and where did you find this?" I asked.

"You remember our first night out when we beat the blimmin' daylights out of those Fingermen?" Anthony asked me.

"Yeah…"

"Well, we went back just to make sure we didn't kill anybody," Rodney explained. "When we got there…" He stopped. Anthony was silent as well. I arched my eyebrows and gave them worried looks.

"Guys…_what happened? _What did you find?" Rodney took a deep breath.

"They were dead. All of them. Even the one we didn't fight. All their blimmin' throats got slit open." My eyes widened, my heart started hammering, and I broke out in a cold sweat.

"No one saw you there…right?" I said slowly.

"No, we didn't get seen," Anthony assured me. I let out a sigh of relief.

"Good. The last thing we need is to be accused of murder and treason." I relaxed a little, relieved that we wouldn't be fugitives.

"So the rose…any ideas as to who left them there?"

"Nope. No ideas at all, but whoever it was, they're damn good and we owe them," Anthony said. Silence.

"Just one question…" I asked. "Why didn't you two tell me?"

"It was never brought up and we didn't want to make yeh worry," Rodney said. Although I was a little disappointed with them for not telling me, I had to give them credit for caring.

"Hmm…well, I'll research the red rose look-alike tomorrow. Right now, I just wanna sleep," I said. "You guys cool with the couch and the floor?"

"Yeah we'll be fine. Don't worry 'bout tit," Rodney said.

"Well, night guys."

"Night," Rodney and Anthony both said.

I stood up and hobbled to my room. I closed the door, changed into my PJs, and climbed into bed with the plastic bag Rodney had given me.

_I still don't recognize the red rose look-alike…I've never seen it before. Who could've left that at a murder scene? My best guess is that it was one guy…but who? No one in their right mind_ _would murder Fingermen. Must've been a psycho who didn't have a clue as to what they were doing…or it could've been a pro with his own agenda. Hell, I have no bloody idea…it could've been anybody. But like Anthony said, whoever did this had our gratitude. We don't need the title of "murderer" added to our names._

I got out of bed, put the plastic bag on my desk, and lied back down. I would just have to put the rose out of my thoughts, for I needed to rest and get my leg back to normal.

********************

**A/N: Hopefully, you all know who the rose belongs to…if not, then no biggie. Just some big, unknown question that will be answered. :D**

**I'm sorry if it ain't exciting, but it's about to be in like the next 2-3 chapters! Trust meh! XD**

**Review?**


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